After It All
by Henka
Summary: One Shot. Post 3x16. Lucas is asked to speak at the funeral of his classmate. He accepts.


**After It All**

**By: Sari**

**Summary: **Lucas is asked to speak at the funeral of his classmate. He accepts.

**Disclaimer:** OTH, disappointingly, does not belong to me.

Frankly, if he had a choice, he wouldn't be up here right now. He didn't like the pressure. All those eyes resting on him, waiting for him to put closure to the event that blew apart their lives almost three weeks ago.

Honestly, he can't believe it's only been three weeks since it happened. It's felt like years. How can it be, that in a few hours they've all suddenly aged from seventeen and eighteen year olds? It feels like they have lived a lifetime in these three weeks.

"Hey are you ready?" The principal asks, nudging Lucas. Lucas nods, not really ready but as ready as he will ever be.

As the priest finished his short sermon, the principal walked out onto the newly erected stage in the middle of the crowded cemetery. "Today has been a day of closure for many of us. It has begun the healing for others, and for all of us, it has been a hard day that has attested once again to the strength of Tree Hill. Right now, one of your classmates, and a former friend of James Wallace (a/n: I actually have no clue what Jimmy's full name is. If you know correct me, and I'll correct this story) Lucas Scott is going to conclude this memorial."

At his cue, Lucas walked out to the somber clapping of the crowd. Looking out he could see his mother and Keith sitting in the front row with Brooke, Peyton, Haley, Nathan, and Dan. He had to thank whatever God there was that Keith hadn't died from being shot by Jimmy. He didn't think he would have the strength to be standing up there now if it hadn't been for the support of his family and friends.

Lucas cleared his throat. "I can't even stand up here and righteously say that we could have helped Jimmy. That if we had just paid more attention to him or if we had stopped being so selfish he wouldn't have brought that gun to school. He wouldn't have killed himself or held out school hostage. I can't say that I was a good friend to him and this, this was simply the blame of stuck up jocks and cheerleaders. What happened three weeks ago was everyone's fault. We can't put the blame on a single person or an isolated event, what Jimmy was going through was a gradual build up of years and years of abuse." Lucas stated strongly his soft voice amplified by the microphone.

He took a deep breath, locked eyes with Brooke, and continued. "I met Jimmy when I started middle school. We bonded because we understood how it hurt to be an outcast. He was an outcast because he was smart. I was an outcast because of my biological father. We bonded out of the inability to gain friends because of circumstances we couldn't control. And when we entered high school that bond stayed true because face it, high school is cruel. People in high school don't care about you. All they care about is their circle of friends, and if you're not in it then you're obviously out of it and that is a mistake on your part, not theirs. But when I joined the basketball team all that changed for me and all of a sudden I was a part of that circle of friends and I was happy." Lucas smiled. "I'll never regret making friends with my brother or Brooke or Peyton, but I do regret not staying friends with Jimmy."

"I keep thinking that maybe, just maybe if I had made the effort to make a phone call then he wouldn't have brought that gun. Because ultimately, that's what I'm here to talk about right? Why he brought that gun. And I can't answer that question, I don't think anyone can. But I can try with all my might to try to make things right for myself and hopefully for you as well. We as a community were scarred by what he did, and I know what every single one of you are thinking. What did _I_ do? What could I do to make this better? And you know what the answer is?" He asked.

He shrugged. "Look to your left, look to your right, look behind you, in front of you, diagonal of you, just look around you and make sure you know the name of every person your near to. Don't leave anyone out. If you don't know those people then make an effort to tell them your name and then listen for theirs. Just be friendly, and the next thing you know you might have a new friend who can feel as if they met someone that they can confide in. Maybe they don't have to feel alone in this world. Maybe they don't have to arrive to school and realize that no one gives a damn that they did. Maybe we'll save the life of one person because we care, and all they needed to know was that we did."

"I'll start." Lucas said. "My name, if you didn't already know, is Lucas Scott. I'm the son of Dan Scott and Karen Roe. My adopted father is Keith Scott. I am a senior and I am the co-captain of the basketball team along with my brother Nathan Scott. My best friends are Haley James Scott and Peyton Sawyer, my girlfriend is captain of the cheerleading squad Brooke Davis. I have a tight knit group of friends but if you need to talk to me, I'm there."

Tears were falling down Lucas's face freely, he didn't mind that the entire student body was witnessing him break down. He didn't care that he was a man and men didn't cry. All that mattered was that he got this message across and for once, someone listened.

"Three weeks ago, I almost lost my father and I almost lost a friend. Three weeks ago I _did_ lose a friend. I don't want to bury anymore of my classmates. I don't want to stand up here and deliver another eulogy. I don't want to have nightmares anymore about coming to school and being forced to watch as my friend almost loses her life. I just want to live out the rest of my life in some semblance of normalcy. And even though I know that nothing will ever be the same again, I want it to. We're burying Jimmy today; let's bury all our hate for others with him. Let's not let this happen again. Thank you."

Lucas stepped down from the podium to deafening applause and not a dry eye in the cemetery. Really, it wasn't something to be proud of, but he couldn't help but be proud that they had listened.

A/N: I know in the coming weeks there are going to be plenty of post-shooting fics. This is my contribution. I already have another one, a short multi-parter in the works that is a sequel to this one-shot. We'll just see how it goes. Please review.


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